


Your Way

by insulamea16



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Adommy, Anxiety, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash, Romance, creating things, creating together, creative block
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 07:38:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5240072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insulamea16/pseuds/insulamea16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What does it really take to create things? </p><p>   You need guts to create things that are true. You need someone who believes in you – to go off the safe shores into the dangerous and scary waters of a creative process.</p><p>   Adam liked Tommy from the first moment he laid his eyes on the blonde guitarist. But that was not the day when that special chemistry between them was born.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GlambertUK71](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlambertUK71/gifts).



> This work is a very belated birthday present for my dear friend, beta and a great writer GlambertUK71. 
> 
> Not betaed (naturally)), probably has lots of mistakes and doesn't make any sence. Making it perfect was kind of not the point. Please, bear with me)

_“It's my life_  
_It's now or never_  
_I ain't gonna live forever_  
_I just want to live while I'm alive_  
_My heart is like an open highway_  
_Like Frankie said_  
_I did it my way”_

_Jon Bon Jovi_

  
   “Damn this song – can’t make it sound right!” Adam exclaimed in exasperation. He put down the microphone on the amplifier with a loud sound that echoed in the spacious room of the record studio.

   “What do you mean?” asked Tommy. He thought the song Adam was singing sounded perfect but he already knew it was pointless to argue with the singer, when he was like this.

   They spent all morning in the studio rehearsing for the first concerts of Adam’s first tour – a few weeks after Tommy had got the job of a bass player in Adam’s band. Bright and warm LA sunlight felt nice on the young man’s skin. And this was nice too – sitting here alone with Adam, while the rest of the band went to have lunch in the nearby restaurant.

   Adam didn’t answer him and Tommy raised his head from his bass to look at the singer. He couldn’t help but notice worry in the man’s eyes as Adam stared in front of himself blankly.

   They say it’s easier to fuck up your dreams, when you almost got it. Totally true. That’s the moment when your sub conscience (fucked up and full of childhood traumas, like everyone’s sub conscience is supposed to be) decides if you can have it or not. If you’re ready or not…

   Adam always looked like he was ready to take it all – all he ever wanted from life, right now. This moment though, with only the two of them in the room, he looked… scared, for the lack of better word.

   Tommy stole another look at Adam while pretending to tune his bass. How can you say the right words and not make things worse with too much sympathy? Should he even say anything at all?

   “Adam,” Tommy started cautiously. “May be I should keep such things to myself, but…”

   “Yeah?”

   By the way Adam was looking at him now Tommy knew he got his attention.

   “Since I’ve been working with you, I… I hear you sing and… I can’t take it sometimes. The way you sing - it’s too real, makes me feel too many things at the same time… Like I’ve been numb for too long, you know? You don’t have to do it right or some stupid perfect way you think it should be done. Do it your way and you’ll make them lose their minds. That I can promise you.”

   Adam smiled at him warmly and put his hand above Tommy’s resting on the bass.

   “Thank you. I know this – about doing it my own way, I mean… I just… Kind of forget it sometimes – when it matters most, I guess.”

   Tommy smiled back and felt something inside him twist in a bittersweet painful sensation.

   “Can I make a confession too?” Adam asked, a little hesitant.

   “Sure,” answered Tommy, wondering what it might be about.

   “Ever since you’ve come to my band, it’s…” Adam paused for a moment, carefully choosing words. “It’s been easier for me to perform.”

   Tommy raised his brow in silent question.

   “It’s been easier because…,” continued Adam, “I see you’re standing there and – even when I’m not sure if I can do it, you look at me like I’m some kind of a hero, like I can do everything. I have no choice but to pull it off then – cuz you believe in me.”

   Tommy froze. Here was this “feeling too much” thing Adam constantly put him through. How was he supposed to react to such words?

   “Err… thanks?” Tommy laughed nervously. “Sorry, I… don’t know what to say.”

   “No need to say anything, Tommy Joe. Thank you for ever coming to this band,” with these words Adam stood upon his feet and went out of the room, touching gently Tommy by the shoulder on his way out.

   “Will be back in a sec.”

   Tommy was left in a room alone with a strange feeling in his gut – like he was missing something that was right in front of him. The blonde sighed quietly and started to actually tune his bass.

**Author's Note:**

> PS I haven't given up writing but I hate to admit I'm struggling through writer's block and writing awfully slowly. My only hope is that my friend Ian here and I can help each other somehow through this difficult process. I really do want to survive as a writer. Don't want to do it alone too)


End file.
